


releaser

by orphan_account



Category: Critical Role (Web Series) RPF
Genre: Dirty Talk, F/M, If you know Liam or anyone involved with the show please avoid this like the plague, cis female reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-03-23
Packaged: 2019-11-28 18:43:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18212141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: I know I’m going to hell for writing this but also tbh I feel like I’m doing the world a favor here. So you’re welcome.Portions of this fic were inspired by and remixed from The Great Sex Olympics of 221b by XistentialAngst. You can find that work here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/477669Title is the name of a song Liam put on his Caleb playlist. Felt appropriate.





	releaser

**Author's Note:**

> I know I’m going to hell for writing this but also tbh I feel like I’m doing the world a favor here. So you’re welcome.
> 
> Portions of this fic were inspired by and remixed from The Great Sex Olympics of 221b by XistentialAngst. You can find that work here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/477669
> 
> Title is the name of a song Liam put on his Caleb playlist. Felt appropriate.

“Babe, today was a shitty day.” It's the first thing you announce when you walk in the door, your eyes watery, and Liam looks up with a concerned expression on his face.

“What happened?” He walks over to you and hugs you, tight, and you clasp your arms around him in return. He presses a kiss to your neck, so tenderly. Even being home for just a minute, even the small gestures of a hug and a kiss, are enough to start soothing your frazzled nerves. But it has been a spectacularly bad day, so it's going to take more than that.

Over dinner you tell him about it, and he listens attentively. He's great that way, so much better than other people you've dated. He pours wine for the two of you, and as you drink he puts his arm around your shoulder, pulling you snug against his side on the couch. You're content there, but soon enough the energy changes, morphs into something else.

You only have a sip of wine left, so Liam takes the glass from your hand and puts it on the table. He stands up and straddles your legs, his knees just barely on the sofa, his feet on the floor. In this position he fills your sight completely. He says nothing as you look up at him, but he lets you see the intent on his face. You are mine tonight. And I’m taking you now. You give him a slow smile in return. Come on then.

Liam puts his hands on your shoulders and strokes along your collarbones to the back of your neck, rubbing his slightly rough fingertips across your sensitive skin. He places both thumbs just so and presses gently on either side of your spine. You sigh and go limp. His strong, capable hands work your neck muscles, same as always after a hard day. He's so good to you, always giving you just what you want, knowing what you need before you even say it.

Your head lolls back and he takes your mouth, ravishing it slowly, sucking, lightly biting, licking in and stroking with his tongue in a preview of things later to come. You kiss him back, forced to yield to his deliberate pace. Soon enough you’re arching up toward him, wanting contact. He doesn't give it to you. He has your full attention now, and he's going to take advantage of it.

He slowly eases the kissing, bringing you back to the surface. Then he takes your hand and leads you to the bedroom. You follow silently, squeezing his fingers in yours. He turns to smile at you, the crinkles around his eyes making your heart patter. He winks.

“C’mon,” he murmurs. “I really wanna see you. Want to get my hands all over you.” He reaches out to you, deft fingers manipulating the buttons on your shirt. 

He takes his time, caressing newly bared skin with his thumbs and light fingertips, with kisses and gentle pulls of lips and tongue. You close your eyes, giving in to the sensation. You shiver as he unhooks your bra and slides his fingertips lightly underneath to remove it, your skin blossoming in goosebumps and your nipples hardening. 

“This feels good,” you say. Whisper, almost. You feel almost dizzy with lust. 

“I know,” says Liam. He fills up the space in front of you, big and solid and there, enough to make you feel a little small, a little taken care of. Some of the tension you’re carrying seems to ease from your muscles; your head lolls back, just a little, just enough to let him know what he's doing to you. 

He slides one hand up your shoulder and your neck to cradle the back of your head and then he kisses you, deeply, pulling you into him and almost bowing your body backward. He keeps his other hand solid on your lower back, so you're pinned there, and the sensation is overwhelming. You feel like a live wire, sparking everywhere. 

Finishing the kiss, Liam turns you, pulling you back against him. He strokes your stomach and arms, cups your breasts, runs the flat of his palms over your nipples while allowing you to feel the hard length of him pressed up against your backside. You’re putty in his arms, your head resting back on his shoulder. He murmurs in your ear, just little things, terms of endearment as he skims his fingers over the top of your skirt, cupping you there, just lightly, revealing it, but never giving you enough. He traces over the fabric with maddeningly light circles until you groan, your hips moving instinctively, your eyes shut, and you aren't thinking about your awful day anymore.

“God, you feel good,” you say, grinding back against him. “I want to touch you. I really want to touch you.”

Liam chuckles low in his throat. “If you’re a very good girl.”

He unzips your skirt and slides it down. Other than some lace panties, you stand naked in front of a fully-clothed Liam. And still he strokes your thighs and stomach and only lightly over your pubis and breasts, biting and sucking at your neck, as if he has all the time in the world. And he does, maybe. You could be content to do this for eternity.

You sigh, coming apart at the touch of his hands, driven to chase what he withholds. You grind back against him, wantonly, until he brings his lips to your ear. 

“Eager, are we? Don't you like this?” He punctuates the question with a gentle pinch of your nipple, and you gasp.

“Babe,” you say, trying not to whine. “Your hands.”

“Yeah. Feels good?” He kisses just behind your ear then begins to move you, wrapping his hands along your ribcage and pushing you forward gently.

“Feels really good.” 

Slowly, he guides you over to the bed and down onto your back. You go willingly, pliant and unresisting. He arranges you with your knees at the edge of the bed and your feet on the floor. Then, he moves to stand between your legs. He doesn't say anything, but the way he looks at you makes your chest tight. Like you're a gift, or something very special, and like he’s going to eat you alive. 

Slowly, he begins to unbutton his shirt.

Liam’s a beautiful man. There's no denying that. His skin gleams in the low light, so soft-looking over his lean frame. He's more fit than would be obvious, and you watch the muscles in his arms ripple as he pulls off his shirt and tosses it to the ground.

He regards you coyly, sweeping his hair back from his forehead. He stands between your legs, reminding you of where you need to feel him, but leaving you empty and unfulfilled, not giving you his weight, his presence, not yet. He grips your panties and pulls them down, sliding them off over your feet and discarding them.

You press your feet hard against the floor and arch up your hips – presenting yourself to him, asking for that skin, for it to be pressed against yours. You aren't begging, not yet, but you would if he wanted. You'd do anything if he wanted.

He stands there for a moment, touching his own stomach lightly. He’s large and erect in his jeans, giving you a visual tease. He tugs the end of his belt, and somehow there’s a promise in his expression, something that tips you over the edge from want to need. You sit up fast and take the end of the belt from Liam and yank it open. Your fingers scramble at the button and then the zipper with intense focus, needing to see and touch - until he catches your wrists, and says, “Now. What did I say? Who's in charge here?”

His expression is so kind and gentle, even in this moment. The corners of his eyes wrinkle as he regards you warmly. You know he's right. You don't want to be in charge; you just want him to take care of you. 

“You're in charge,” you say, and you can see the words have an effect on him, his eyes briefly going darker with lust. He tilts his head back, just slightly, drawing in a breath, and licks his lips.

“That's right,” he says, a little huskier than before. “Why don't you just lay back -” he pushes gently and releases your arms, and you lay back down, obedient, “- and let me do this.”

You nod mutely, watching as he nonchalantly pushes down his jeans and his underwear, stepping neatly out of them and kicking them aside. His cock hangs hard and thick, begging to be touched, kissed, swallowed down.

He climbs astride you, making eye contact as he kneels above your waist, and wraps his hand around his cock, giving himself slow, lazy strokes. The sight of him touching himself burns you up inside, every time. The muscles in his forearm flex as he twists his hand near the head, and he groans before letting himself go.

“Will you push up on your elbows for me?” he asks, so you do. You flick your gaze between his eyes and his cock, licking your lips. Being deliberate and obvious about what you want. “Thank you. Will you open your mouth, sweetheart? Stick out your tongue.”

You do as he asks, and he moves toward you again, placing one hand in gently in your hair, not pulling, just to show you how good you're being. With the other hand, he guides his cock to your mouth. He rubs the tip along your tongue and groans, then pushes further in until it hits the back of your throat. You keep still, even though you long to close your mouth and suck. He starts to fuck your open mouth, rubbing his hard flesh against your tongue, shallow thrusts against the wet heat of your soft palate. His fingers clench in your hair. Your eyes flutter shut, but he pulls back.

You open your eyes again to look up at Liam, his muscles taut, his face an open book of desire. He licks his lips again, then smiles, a little sideways. He runs his thumb over your lip, then lets go with the hand in your hair and allows you to sink back down onto the bed. He follows and puts his lips to your ear. “I love your mouth,” he murmurs, his voice deep in his chest. “But I have to touch you now.”

“Oh, god, I want you to,” you reply. You push yourself back on the bed, and he crawls over you, holding his weight above you, making you crazy for wanting it. You run your hands down his sides, squeezing gently at the soft parts and pulling him closer. He brings his mouth to yours and kisses you, biting at your lower lip, teasing with just the tip of his tongue. His hands move over your body, warm and firm, caressing but not giving enough to satisfy. He brings one hand up to your breast, thumbing your nipple as he groans against your lips. You lose all finesse, giving in to the pleasure, not even trying to kiss him back as he licks across your lower lip and trails kisses down your jaw, your neck, along your collarbone. You push his head down with a gasp and he licks and nuzzles and sucks where you need it, his lips and tongue on your nipples. With his hand he rubs the inside of your thigh, the crease of leg and groin. His thumb rubs circles just minutely to the left or right of your clit but not giving it direct attention, only teasing brushes. You arch up toward his hand and groan desperately.

“Jesus, Liam, I know you know where it is. Please, touch me, I want it so bad.”

He chuckles. “Baby, I’m gonna make you come. But I want to do it with my tongue.”

You groan a plea, oh yes, please, please, and push his head further down in answer. He slides down to spread your legs apart. You look down at him, at yourself, as he kisses the inside of your thigh. God, the sight. He maintains eye contact deliberately as he runs a hand into the crease of your groin, pulling you slightly more open, and you thump your head back against the bedspread. With one hand, he trails fingertips across your stomach, up to tease your nipple. With the other, he pushes against the back of your thigh. That’s all the warning you get before he takes a long sweep with his tongue over your clit. Then again, and again. He’s relentless, and you shudder under the assault before you melt into it, gasping in breaths as he rapidly brings you to the precipice. He’s so skilled, knows exactly what to do and how to move his tongue just so to make you squirm underneath him, make you moan and plead for release. Then he suddenly stops, with his tongue just pressed against your clit. 

You lift your head to look down at him, a plea on your lips, and you must look wrecked, because Liam groans at the sight of you and closes his lips around your clit, sucking it, and you white out. You moan through intense pleasure, fisting your hand in his hair, pressing him into yourself as he licks you through your orgasm, nimble fingers caressing your breast and pinching at your nipple.

Breathing heavily, you choke out, “God, baby, that feels so good -” before he’s pushing up on his elbows and moving up your body. You feel his hard cock along your hip and you wrap one leg around him, intending to flip over on top of him. Instead, he simultaneously captures your mouth in a kiss and runs his hand down your side, around your ass - which he slaps once for good measure, causing you to squirm against him - and presses two fingers against your slick pussy. 

“Look at you,” he says, muttering against your lips as he strokes you, fingers circling your clit and dipping just inside you, curling slightly before pulling back out. “You’re so lovely. So wet for me. Do you like this? Like me taking control and making you feel good?” He punctuates each statement with another kiss, nuzzling against your nose. With his other hand he caresses your cheek. You look up into his eyes and nod, unable to speak. The tightness in your chest blossoms out, threatening to consume you as he gazes down at you. He takes pity, wrapping his hand under your head and pulling your forehead to his shoulder while pressing his fingers inside you in one long, slow movement. He pumps them in and out, pressing up in just the right spot to send shivers down your spine. You screw your eyes closed, enveloped in his arms, and surrender. His hips hitch slightly, pressing the hot length of his cock against your skin as he engages his thumb in the action, sliding it against your sensitive clit. He kisses your shoulder, gently bites and then licks over the skin as he works you with his fingers. Pleasure builds as his sure hand takes you apart, bit by bit. In short order you’re moaning against his neck, clutching at his back while he presses his fingers inside you and pulses them, rolling his thumb over your clit until you yell out, oh God, oh God, heat radiating from your core through your fingertips. 

Liam brings you down, soothing his hands against your overheated flesh as you shudder against him. Then he pulls you onto your side and shifts himself around so he’s facing you. You’re limp, a little sweaty, and you can feel his chest heaving, clearly aroused. He gently tugs up your top leg, placing your foot on the bed so you’re again open, only now on your side. He moves himself next to you, groin to groin. He takes himself in hand and begins to rub against you, using his hard tip and then length against the most sensitive part of you, stroking all along, not penetrating, just rubbing against your soft, wet flesh, so very wet from his mouth and your own arousal. You glance down, shiver, and say “Oh my god.” As he works himself over you, the tension in your thighs starts to build again.

He rests his head against yours and says, voice deep and husky, “God, you feel good. Look at that.” He’s up on one elbow, watching. Teasing himself now as much as he’s teasing you. “Look at how hard you get me. The sight of you, the smell of you. The taste of you.” Your whole body is aflame with desire, his words rumbling through you as he rubs his cock over your skin, slick with want and swollen with desire. “I love your body. I love your sweet, tight pussy. Do you love this? Does this feel good?”

The trembling in your thighs grows tighter and tighter, your breathing shallow. You’re so close again. You say, “Oh God, Liam, I need you inside me,” and suddenly he rolls away, onto his back, and pulls you with him so you straddle his waist. Your thighs are shaking; you’re a wreck, but you feel tingly, loose all over. You place one hand gently on his stomach and with the other, position his cock underneath yourself and slide him inside you with one push. He tilts his head back, groans, and grasps your hips, squeezing hard, pressing his fingertips into your flesh. You’re trembling, on the brink, and you work yourself against him desperately. He must be able to tell, because he moans a little, deep in his throat.

“Let me,” he says, and places one hand on the small of your back to tilt you forward a bit. “Let me make you come one more time.” He holds you still and grinds up into you, just there, just where you need it. The angle is perfect, his cock dragging against your throbbing clit with every movement. You pant and moan, so close, and he finally thrusts up inside of you, hard and fast, pounding against you. And you’re coming, again, holding onto his biceps and squeezing, as he slows his thrusts, deep and tight, letting you ride it out. It seems to stretch on for ages, until he grips your arm and pulls it up, placing your palm against the top of the headboard. Then the other, so you’re stretched out over him, and he again begins to thrust up hard inside you. 

You can’t form coherent thoughts, let alone words, so you just watch his face as he takes what he wants from you. He lifts his head to mouth and suck at your breast, and he pushes into you with enough force to make you cry out, keeping you strung out through the aftershocks. His hands span your waist, your back, your ribcage, your breasts. He squeezes as they bounce in his hands with every thrust of his hips, and lays his head back down. His mouth is slack, he’s panting, watching you move above him. He’s close.

With a growl, he wraps one arm around you and rolls you over, onto your back, pressing you into the mattress. You hook your legs around his waist instinctively. He nearly pulls fully out before slipping back into you, thrusting himself deep inside you over and over. He presses his face into your neck and you hold the back of his head, riding waves of pleasure until he groans, stiffens, pushes inside you with one final thrust and holds himself there, pulsing slightly, spilling himself inside you. 

He pulls out, kisses your mouth, then presses kisses all along your shoulders and chest before he rolls over onto his back. He reaches out to tangle his fingers with yours. The two of you lay there, content, letting your breathing return to normal. 

Eventually, he turns his head and says, with a crooked smile, “Better day?” You laugh.

“I’d say so, yeah. Better for sure.”

“Good.” He squeezes your fingers. “Happy to do it again sometime, though.”


End file.
